Other Side of the Window


So tired, could not stay awake last evening.  Oktoberfest slammed shut with good friends last weekend.

The leaf-peepers were out in force at Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  At higher elevations bare tree skeletons stood stoic, waited for coming winter.  Misty rain fell, gave way to glimpses of sunshine.

A long line of cars snaked through Cades Cove.  Waiting in line at the grocery or DMV for two or three hours would have been  unacceptable.  Professional photographers captured precise moments in time at strategic locations.  I envied their sophisticated photography equipment.

A young man directly in front of us with an off-road vehicle, zigzagged from shoulder to shoulder.  If he had an off-road vehicle, then by gosh, he was going to give it a work out.  Hadn’t we seen him earlier at the restaurant in town?

What was on the other side of the window?  People with familial connections to Cades Cove were still buried there.  White clapboard church bells ring on Sunday mornings.   Seasons changed.  Cades Cove community lived on.

Max and Maggie, the legendary super mutts, went along for the ride.  There were plenty of squirrels, wild turkeys, deer–but, no bears.